


It's Been A Long Hard Year

by BohemianGryffindor06



Series: Let Your Heart Rule Your Head [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Smut, I feel kinda bad for putting Roger through more angst, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Least he's got John, M/M, Mentions conversion therapy, Protective John Deacon, Sad Roger Taylor (Queen), Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28409016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BohemianGryffindor06/pseuds/BohemianGryffindor06
Summary: ***This is an out-take from Let Your Heart Rule You Head and would probably make more sense if you read that first, but it's not essential in order to to follow the storyline***John and Roger have celebrated their first Christmas as a couple, and are just enjoying a private moment, when they get an unexpected visit from Roger's sister.Roger’s mouth dropped open in surprise as he tried to process the sight of his sister shivering outside his front door at midnight on a Friday evening.“Clare? Is that really you?”“The one and only,” she said with a smile. “Sorry if I woke you. I didn’t really think of that when I made the last-minute decision to get the hell out of Dodgeville.”Something about her tone immediately had Roger moving aside.
Relationships: Brian May/Freddie Mercury, John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Series: Let Your Heart Rule Your Head [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080701
Comments: 28
Kudos: 25





	1. We Live In Troubled Days

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just a little backstory on this fic before you read on. So I decided to write a companion series alongside  
> Let Your Heart Rule Your Head. The three chapters are set a couple of months after chapter 31 in the other fic, just after Christmas. Once all three chapters on here are uploaded, it'll move back to Let Your Heart Rule Your Head and will move forwards from there. Hope that makes sense! Enjoy!

John gripped the headboard tighter as he tilted his hips forwards and dropped back onto Roger’s cock. He gave a breathy gasp at just how deep the angle felt.

Roger’s lips trailed over the heated flesh of his neck and towards his ear. “You close baby?”

John half-hummed, half-moaned in reply as his other hand tangled through Roger’s hair.

Roger whined in response as John’s cock coasted through his fist a little faster, keeping in time with their thrusts. He traced the head with his thumb, gathering some of the precum along his length. Then he bent his head to softly bite John’s neck, causing him to moan louder. He pulled back enough to watch him, momentarily distracted by John’s gorgeousness.

He looked like a sort of sinfully debauched angel.

With his wild hair nestled around his face like a dark halo, the ends clinging to his clammy skin. His flushed cheeks, red bitten lips, and soft green eyes which always seemed to shimmer much more intensely under the dim glow of the lamp. His face was pathed with pleasure, the slightest crease in his forehead as he began to thrust a little quicker.

John had the kind of body he was almost always battling not to attach himself to, and what was worst was that John knew exactly how to use it.

Or perhaps that was a good thing.

Roger still couldn’t believe he was really his. Beautiful, sweet John, with his gap-toothed smile and infectious laughter.

“ _Fuck yes_ ,” Roger cursed aloud as John began to bounce against his cock faster still, an intense look in his eyes. It caused pleasure to ripple through him in the best way, steering himself closer and closer to his orgasm.

“Rog,” he mewled softly. “I…I’m gonna… _christ_ , I—”

Roger hummed, his hand tightening around his cock slightly. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

John made a noise at the back of his throat in response. Roger bent his head to kiss his shoulder.

He thrust against him a few more times, Roger’s name on his tongue as he came against Roger’s hand and his own stomach. The feel of John tightening around him had Roger following immediately after with a loud groan.

They lingered against one another to catch their breath, both reluctant to pull away. Eventually, John gently pulled out, wincing a little as he did. He settled against the bed as Roger went in search of a washcloth. After they’d cleaned up, he threw it in the direction of the laundry pile, turned out the light, and snuggled closer to John.

John gave a tired chuckle as Roger’s leg tangled immediately between his, and he pressed himself against his side, seeking his warmth. John returned the embrace by kissing him against the top of his head and tangling a hand in Roger’s hair, playing with the strands as Roger liked when he was sleepy.

“Love you,” John whispered against the top of his head.

“Love you.”

Then he closed his eyes, his breath deepening, on the edge of falling asleep. Just as there was a knock. Roger scrunched up his face in response. “Who’s tha’? Don’t they know how late it is?”

“Ignore it. S’ probably more Caroller’s.”

“Hmm, good point.”

Satisfied, Roger let the lull of sleep pull him under…Just as the knocking started up again, louder, and longer this time.

John gave a tired sigh as he pulled his hand back from Roger’s hair. “Go see who it is.”

Roger whined groggily in response. “Why me?”

“’Cause you laid down last.”

“’S not fair. I’m cosy.”

“Oh well.”

Roger clambered up from the bed with a groan and blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the dark. “Better be important…gonna’ kill whoever’s at the front door.”

John hummed at his boyfriend’s grumblings as he turned onto his side. “’Kay, good luck.”

Roger pulled on his boxers with a smile. He could just make out John’s outline, snuggled under the duvet, his hair sprawled across the pillow. He grabbed John’s dressing gown, quickly shut the bedroom door, and passed quietly through the hallway.

“Coming, coming! Keep your knickers on!” Roger shouted in response to the sound of more knocking. He banged the light switch on, on the way, and squinted under the sudden light as he fumbled with the lock and pulled open the door.

“I’ll have you know dear brother that my knickers are firmly on for your information!”

Roger’s mouth dropped open in surprise as he tried to process the sight of his sister shivering outside his front door at midnight on a Friday evening.

“Clare? Is that really you?”

“The one and only,” she said with a smile. “Sorry if I woke you. I didn’t really think of that when I made the last-minute decision to get the hell out of Dodgeville.”

Something about her tone immediately had Roger moving aside.

“Fair does. Make yourself at home and I’ll go and pop the kettle on.”

By the time he returned from the kitchen, Clare was snuggled on the sofa, John’s blanket over her legs.

“Am I okay to kip on the sofa? Just for a night or two? I would go back to mine, but one of my flatmate’s has got her boyfriend staying over. They’re not exactly considerate with the noise level,” she said with a wince.

“ _Fair_. But er…you can sleep in the spare room. No point sleeping on the sofa unless you have to.”

“Cheers Rog.”

He passed over her cup of hot chocolate, the marshmallows floating on top, and a spoon.

“Did you add baileys too?”

“Of course. Only a drop though. Mum would kill me if she knew I was giving you alcohol.”

She rolled her eyes in response. “Oh come on, I’m eighteen now. She let me have wine with dinner at Christmas, and she must know I drink way more than that when I’m at uni. Besides, it’s hardly the first time. In fact, I seem to remember you buying my first legal one.”

“I seem to remember buying alcohol for you on the sly before that too. As well as the occasional pack of ciggies,” Roger said with a smile.

She grinned as she scooped some of the marshmallows onto the spoon. “And that’s what makes you a top big brother.”

“On that note, cheers,” Roger teased as he raised his cup. He didn’t add how he wasn’t sure their Mum would have seen it like that, and instead, focused on how the baileys warmed his insides.

He watched her carefully, trying to think of a way to approach the subject. She might have technically been three years younger, but she was headstrong. She’d always known what she wanted from life. Roger had constantly been envious of that fact.

She’d knuckled down in her GCSE’s, then her A-Levels. She’d picked to study Medical Science at university and planned on eventually getting her PhD. She was popular too. Especially with the opposite sex.

That was one thing they used to have in common. Until John.

They had the same dirty blonde hair, bright blue eyes and easy smile. The same sociable personality and endless bound of energy. Except, she didn’t seem to have much of that right now. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she was chewing her bottom lip a little too roughly to be reassuring.

“Come on then Clare-bear, what’s up?”

Roger kept his tone light by calling her his childhood nickname for her. Pushing too hard would only frighten her away. Same way it did with him.

“I’m fine. Was just bored of being at home, waiting for the new term to start.”

Roger hummed as he took another sip of the hot chocolate. “Fair enough. Bet Mum was gutted when you left.”

“Something like that,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes as she sipped on her own drink.

“But Mum knows, yeah? About you upping and leaving Truro in the middle of the night.”

She rolled her eyes again in response. “It’s barely midnight.”

“Late enough that Mum would have a fit if she woke to find you gone. You know that as well as I do.” Roger sighed. “So come on, what’s going on?”

She’d never ran away before. Which was why Roger knew their Mum would be worried.

She fidgeted a little, fingering the edge of the blanket with a far-off look on her face. “Look, it’s not a big deal. I just couldn’t be arsed with any long goodbyes. You know how Mum gets.”

“Still,” Roger said warily. “I’ll ring her in the morning. Let her know you’re here.”

She was shaking her head before he finished that thought. “No need. I’ll drop her a text first thing.”

“Fine, okay.”

He watched her gaze flicker around the room, taking in the decorations still spread about the place. The tinsel hung from the picture frames; the tree nestled in the corner of the room.

“Nice decs by the way. Nice place actually.”

“Tar very much. As you already know this was Freddie’s and John’s place. Before Freddie moved out to live with Brian, and I moved in here. So most of the bits and pieces are John’s.”

“You don’t say,” Clare scoffed as her gaze lingered on the record player in the corner of the room, and the vinyl’s propped up against it. The one Freddie and Brian had gifted Roger was behind John’s. “Thought you were more into The Doors and Led Zeppelin than Abba and Kool and the Gang, or was that just a coverup?”

“Also John’s. Twat.”

She sniffed in response. “Isn’t that a charming way to speak to your baby sister.”

“Then don’t be a twat.”

“Coming from the biggest twat of them all.”

He gave her the middle finger in reply. She poked her tongue out at him, causing first Roger, then Clare to descend into laughter.

“Seriously though,” Roger said once they’d stop laughing. “I’m here if you want to chat. About anything.”

She pulled a face. “Like a heart to heart? You’ve not forced one of those onto me in years.”

“And I’m not forcing one now. I’m just putting it out there.”

“I forgot you’re all about peace and good vibes since you’ve been with John. It’s true what they say then. Love really does make people go sappy.”

Roger rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”

She responded by blowing him a kiss. “Love you too, brother.”

—

John woke to a mouthful of Roger’s hair. His head was still nestled against his chest, and he was snoring loudly. He gently wafted it out of the way and blinked sluggishly at the ceiling. He’d slept well considering. Albeit the series of strange dreams he’d had during the course of the night.

What he needed was caffeine. And a lukewarm shower to wake him up.

He carefully manoeuvred himself from around Roger, thankful when he turned onto his stomach and continued to snore obliviously.

He grabbed his dressing gown which Roger had seemingly thrown to the floor the night before.

It was as he tiptoed through the hallway that he realised he was still none the wiser about who’d been at the door. He’d already been asleep by the time Roger crept to bed. He shrugged, realising his guess had probably been right. Carol singers, out to enjoy the last of the festivities before the new year.

He moved straight towards the cafetière instinctively, flicking the kettle on, on the way.

“Ooh, are you making coffee? Excellent!”

John started at the sudden voice, whipping his head around in surprise.

The girl in the doorway gave a sheepish smile. She had blonde, shoulder length hair, and had the same deep-set, blue eyes as Roger’s. She was wearing one of his t-shirts, which fit her like a dress.

“Sorry. Us Taylor’s have got the annoying habit of sneaking up on people, figuratively and literally.”

He blinked a few times, before the realisation quickly dawned on him. “You’re…Clare, I’m assuming?”

“That’s me!” she said brightly as she moved to take a seat at the table. “You’re John obviously. I’ve heard a _lot_ about you.”

He quickly looked away to pour the hot water over the coffee grounds, hoping the panic didn’t show on his face. He grabbed a spoon, focusing on stirring instead. “Erm…have you?”

“Absolutely! All good things, of course.”

He poured them each a cup, before tiptoeing back to the bedroom and setting one on the bedside table. His gaze flickered over Roger for a moment, seeing the way he was still spread out like a starfish, dead to the world. He smiled in response and crept back out again.

He found Clare watching a cooking programme in the living room, with the blanket thrown around her. She smiled crookedly at him in the same way Roger often did.

“Hope you don’t mind. I tend to make myself at home fairly quickly.”

It was a trait Roger himself had inherited and was one of the many things that John loved about him.

“No, not at all.”

He headed over to sit in the armchair as she turned her attention back to the television.

“You still enjoying living with my brother? Is his messiness driving you up the wall yet? Or his endearingly loud snoring?”

Before Roger, John preferred order. He liked knowing that everything had its place, and he’d felt an odd satisfaction organising the flat when him and Freddie had first settled there. That had all changed when Roger moved in, but John had grown to love it. It remained a pleasant reminder that they were now in fact living together.

And as for his snoring, it was…just as Clare said. Oddly endearing.

“No to both. Think I’ve gotten used to it actually.”

Clare scoffed in response. “Give it another couple of months. You should have seen his room when me and Mum cleared up after he moved out. It made the local dumping ground look tidy. You wouldn’t believe the amount of cutlery we found hidden away. Not to mention the smelly old socks under his bed. Amongst…other things.”

She gave a shiver, her nose wrinkling a little in response.

John gave a wry smile. “Yeah, that sounds like Roger.”

“He’s got a good heart really,” she said softly. “I used to call him _dippy egg_ when we were kids, because I always say about hoe he reminds me of a soft-boiled egg. The shell is the wall he builds around himself until you get to know him better. Once you crack that, you see the real him. The one who can’t do enough for you and takes a sad enjoyment from reading out all the terrible jokes from the Christmas crackers.”

John laughed in response. Roger had done the same thing when he’d joined John, his Mum, and his sister for dinner on Boxing Day. John found the comparison to be pretty apt actually.

“Yes, I have noticed that.”

He heard a quiet click from somewhere in the hallway. It was followed by the soft padding of feet. Seconds later, Roger walked through the doorway, his hair slightly dishevelled, and still looking a little bleary-eyed.

“Speak of the devil,” Clare smirked.

Roger only huffed in response as he pushed his hair back. Then he climbed straight into John’s lap and immediately reached for John’s cup of coffee.

“Help yourself. Where’s the one I made you?”

“Finished it,” Roger said sluggishly, as he handed John his cup back so that he could drink the dregs. Once he had, Roger set aside his cup and buried his head against his chest.

John’s arms wound around his waist as he gave a roll of his eyes over the top of his head. “God, it’s lucky you’re cute.”

Clare watched them silently, a hint of a smile on her face.

—

“Explain to me whose idea it was to come out again?”

“My sister’s, of course. She likes a party as much as I do.”

John smiled in response, turning his head to watch Freddie and Clare dancing enthusiastically to _Reach for the Stars_ by _Steps_ on the dancefloor.

“I can see that.”

Roger went back to trying to flag down one of the bar staff. Once he’d ordered, he leaned in to talk over the music again. “Shame Brian couldn’t join us.”

“I got the impression he’d rather be at work.”

Roger laughed in response. “Probably. I can count on my hand the number of times that Bri’s been out clubbing since he started uni.”

“Ah! That reminds me. I clearly remember you promising me a dance the last time we went out.”

“Oh god I did, didn’t I?” Roger groaned. “Alright fine, come on then. Let’s down these first. You better make it worth my while though, Deacy. I’m talking a hand-job and you on top, at the very least.”

John rolled his eyes in response. “Any excuse to negotiate sexual favours.”

Roger grinned. “You know me. Have to take the opportunities whilst I can, baby.”

By the time they had a few more drinks, it was impossible to get John off of the dancefloor. Which meant having to tolerate the torture of dancing himself if Roger wanted to spend any quality time with him on a night out.

Once he started to feel flushed from the alcohol and dancing, Roger decided to leave Freddie and John to it to go and have a cigarette. He could do with some fresh air.

“Ahh there you are. I was wondering where you’d got to.”

Clare grinned from where she was leaning against the brick wall. “Fancied a ciggie.”

“Great minds think alike.”

He let a couple of girls pass on the narrow pavement before he moved to lean against the wall next to Clare.

“Didn’t know you liked dancing so much, Rog.”

He rolled his eyes as he lit his cigarette, hearing the teasing edge to his sister’s voice. “I have to, don’t I? That’s if I want a look-in with Deacy.”

“And you weren’t enjoying yourself at all? I reckon dance classics are your guilty pleasure after all.”

“Fuck no! Just because you’ve always enjoyed dancing around your bedroom to cheesy pop.”

“Hey! Nothing wrong with that!” She said, laughing loudly in response as she flicked the ash of her cigarette to the floor. “Thanks for letting me stay at yours. I should be gone by Sunday.”

“Yeah, sure. No rush. Like we said, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

Roger liked having Clare over. He’d admitted as much to John earlier in the day. They didn’t get to hang out that often unless they were visiting their Mum at the same time these days.

She smiled in response. “Cheers Rog.”

“No worries. You know you can stay whenever.”

The cigarette hung limply from between her fingers as her expression softened. “I know I take the mickey and everything. But you’ve always been a decent big brother, you know that? At the risk of sounding mushy and shit.”

Roger laughed in response, drawing his cigarette up back to his lips to inhale. “Think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me, Clare-bear.”

He expected her to make a joke out of it. Instead, she looked almost… _sad_. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her teeth dragged her bottom lip back. Then she sighed heavily.

“Rog, I…I need to tell you something. It’s about why I ran off from home last night.”

Roger had had a feeling there’d been more to it. “Hit me. I’m all ears.”

“Mum took a call from some…Susan, I think her name was. She was our old neighbour when we lived in Kings Lynn. Remember her?”

“She was the one with the lazy eye, right?”

“That’s her,” Clare said lightly. “Turns out, the police were round ours a couple of days before. Well, our old house.”

Roger watched her duck her head to stamp out her cigarette, his smile tightening in response. “Dickhead still there, is he?”

“ _Was_.”

He said nothing, taking another inhale of his cigarette and waiting for her to clarify that.

“Look, I erm, I doubt there’ll ever be an easy way to say this…he’s dead, Roger. Apparently. They reckon he might have had a heart attack over Christmas.”

It was hardly a surprise. The man spent day and night drinking himself into an oblivion and that was before his parents had split up and they’d moved away. Part of Roger was surprised he’d still been alive. There was also a part which was numb to the news, the shock settling in his bones. And then there was anger too, creeping back out from the corner of his mind. Buried from years ago.

“About time. Good riddance.”

Clare’s gaze flickered over him a little warily. “Rog.”

“What? Were you expecting me to shed a tear over the bastard? If anything, I think we should have a party.”

“There’s going to be a funeral. So Mum says. I convinced her it might have been easier coming from me.”

“Perfect. We can all go dance on his grave.”

“I said the same thing,” she said with a shrug. “But do you not think it might be good for us? To say our goodbyes. At least to the man he _should_ have been, rather than the dickhead he was. For our own sakes if nothing else.”

Roger focused on stomping his cigarette out. Channelling his anger into that, instead of wasting his energy replying to that question.

“Well, it was just a thought. Mum said she’d come along for moral support if we need it.”

“I’ll tell her she needn’t bother. You two can go if you’re that bothered, but that tosser’s already been dead to me for the last eleven years. I don’t see the point of going to some poxy funeral now.”

With that said, he brushed past her and headed back inside, suddenly in need of another drink. He ignored her calling him back.

He knew he could have handled it better. But his father had always been a sensitive subject. He was also a little tipsy, which made it harder not to be so defensive.

He headed straight for the bar, deciding he wasn’t anywhere near as drunk as he’d have liked.

—

John woke to the sound of raised voices. He blinked groggily and then shuffled across the cold, empty bed to reach for his dressing gown. Then he padded through the flat with the intention of finding out what the bloody hell was going on.

“—just as enthusiastic as you about having this conversation. But you can’t just bury your head in the sand over this.”

“Why? You obviously intended to, at least at first. Why else would you have run away from home in the middle of the night?”

John’s gaze flickered between Roger and Clare uncertainly. They were sat across from each other still in their pyjamas, their expressions pinched. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Roger barked immediately, without looking away from Clare.

“You might as well tell him. He is your boyfriend after all.”

“You’re in no position to lecture me about honesty. It took you a day to tell me yourself.”

“Because I knew you’d react like this!”

An uncomfortable silence settled in the small kitchen. Long enough for the worry to churn in John’s gut. He struggled to comprehend what could have happened. They’d had a nice time the night before. John and Clare had shared a portion of chips on the way home, whilst laughing loudly at the way Freddie and Roger decided to burst into _Sweet Caroline_ in the middle of the street.

“I’d like to know what’s happened.”

“It’s about—”

“—Don’t you dare,” Roger warned as Clare went to speak.

“You can’t exactly keep this from him,” she said with a roll of his eyes. “I got some bad news just before I came back to London. It’s about Michael. Our… _father_. If you can call him that.”

She raised her hands to air-quote the _father_ part.

John automatically looked at Roger. His gaze was still trained against the table, his expression hardening.

“What about him?”

“He’s dead if you must know,” Roger added without looking up.

Clare nodded in agreement. “They reckon he had a heart attack over Christmas.”

John was filled with dread at her words. They might not have spoken to the man in years, but it was still a shock. One that Roger, no doubt, wouldn’t want to talk about.

“I assume there’ll be a funeral then?”

“Yes. A day before New Year’s Eve. Mum rang this morning wanting to know if we’re going or not.”

“Which we’re obviously not,” Roger said quietly. “At least, _I’m_ not. I told you already. Only way you’d get me up there is under the promise of being able to dance on his grave.”

“And I told you, come with us and do it for all I care. The man was a loser. He devoted more of his time to the bottle than to his own family—”

“—Exactly! So why give him the satisfaction of going to his fucking funeral?”

“Because it wouldn’t be for him!” Clare said back fiercely. “It would be for _us_. To say goodbye properly. We never got to do that all those years before.”

“So go then! You don’t need me holding your hand, surely?”

John sighed warily as Roger stood up, kicking his chair back under the table. He caught the look on Roger’s face as he stormed past and knew better not to follow. He’d need time to cool off first.

He winced at the sound of their bedroom door slamming closed. Clare sighed in response as she pushed her hair back from her face.

“I’ll talk to him. In a bit.”

She lowered her hands slightly, looking up at John with a somewhat relieved expression. “Thank you.”

He nodded, moving over to flick the kettle on. “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” she said, watching him grab two cups. “I hope it doesn’t sound like I don’t understand why Rog is reacting like he is. Given everything he did to us. Well, more to Mum and Rog than me. I don’t remember as much about what he was like as them two do.”

John hummed uncertainly in response. “It’s a tricky situation. For you all.”

“It is. And I worry Roger might end up regretting not going. In the long run.”

John paused, considering his next words carefully. “I think I would have done if I hadn’t gone to my father’s funeral. Obviously, the situation is completely different, but I’m glad I had the chance to say my last goodbyes.”

“Roger did mention your father died young. Only because I’d asked about your parents. We spent a lot of time talking about you over Christmas, just me and him.”

John smiled weakly in response.

“Heart attack, wasn’t it?”

“Err…” he trailed off as he poured the hot water over the cafetière as he replied. “Yeah, it was.”

She gave a sympathetic smile as he stirred it. “You know how it feels better than anyone then”

John pressed the top down slowly as he spoke. “Roger will come around. Like you say, it’s hard enough losing a parent. Let alone losing one that you didn’t speak to.”

She nodded in response. “You’re right. Thanks John.”

He waited until Clare was in the shower before he went in search of Roger. He was laid on his back, an arm slung over his face.

“I bring coffee. Thought it might help with the hangover.”

He remained quiet as John closed the door behind him. John hated not knowing what he was thinking. He deposited the cup on the table, before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“Help me to understand what you’re thinking about.”

“I thought I made my feelings clear, John. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not even to me?”

With that, Roger peered up at John warily. “I’m not going to that bloody funeral. Nothing you say is going to change my mind so you might as well save your breath now.”

“Alright fine, if that’s what you want. As long as you’re absolutely sure about not wanting to go. Even when it could finally put the past to rest for good.”

Roger hesitated…then he frowned. “Do you really think that can be achieved just by going to his stupid funeral?”

“I don’t know. It might. I guess you won’t know until you get it over with.”

Roger hummed thoughtfully in response. “How am I supposed to sit there whilst people pay their respects to him like he was this top bloke? I’ll end up snapping and saying something I regret.”

“Well don’t.”

“It’s not that simple, Deacy.”

John reached for his hand as he replied. “I know it’s not.”

Roger watched him closely, his expression soft. “I don’t think I’ve ever asked. Whether you went to your Dad’s funeral?”

“I did, yeah. I was just saying that to your sister. Totally different circumstances, I know, but it made things a little easier. Getting to say a proper goodbye.”

Roger nodded in response as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “Is it enough if I say I’ll at least think about it?”

“Of course, it is. More than enough,” John said, raising his hand to kiss the back of it. “I love you.”

Roger smiled softly in response. “I love you too.”

o-o-o


	2. We've Had Our Share Of Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger takes the decision to attend his father's funeral, despite the circumstances, and deals with the repercussions from that...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating for language, swearing and some smut.

Roger laid awake at night, deliberating whether to go to Michael’s funeral. He decided he should, in the end. For Clare and his Mum’s sake if nothing else.

He reluctantly pulled back from John’s farewell hug as they loitered outside the train station. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

John used the arm around his waist to pull him closer again. “I’ll be here. Waiting for you to come home.”

Roger sighed softly in response. “Sounds perfect, Deacy.”

He tilted his head to give John a long, lingering kiss, which had John’s hands tightening against his hips for a moment. He pulled away slowly with a smile when Roger whined softly.

“Come on, you should go and keep your sister company whilst you both wait.”

“I suppose you’re right. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Roger reluctantly left his side to head across to the platform. Clare was already sat on the bench, with two cups of coffee in her hands. She passed him one as he took a seat beside her.

“Cheers Sis.”

It took about two hours to get to Kings Lynn. Their Mum had booked them into a hotel not far from the church.

Roger remained to the side in the foyer, giving Clare a chance to rush forwards and hug their Mum. Then Winifred turned her head, fixing her son with a steady gaze as he hesitantly stepped forwards.

“Alright Mum?”

“Rog sweetheart,” she said softly as she moved to give him a hug. “How are you?”

He hugged her back a little rigidly, feeling a degree of mixed emotions at the contact.

There was a time when their Mum struggled to show affection, even to her own children. Michael’s influence over the family affected not just Clare and Roger, but their mother too. Even after he was gone.

It only got worst after Roger tried to take his own life. It was as if she were frightened that the slightest thing would push him off the deep end.

But he’d been happier since he’d been with John. And his relationship with his Mum had slowly gotten better.

“I’m alright.” 

She leaned back to give him an encouraging smile and ruffle his hair just like she used to when he was a kid. Then she pulled away. “Good. Was the journey okay?”

“Yeah, we made it in good time. Just under two hours.”

“That’s not bad. My journey took a little longer what with coming up from Cornwall, but it was pleasant enough,” Winifred said casually as they headed towards the reception desk. “I was thinking. Should we go and freshen up in our rooms and then meet back up for dinner in a bit? My treat.”

“Sounds good,” Roger nodded.

“Yeah, tar Mum,” Clare smiled.

—

Roger cursed under his breath as he continued struggling with his tie. He’d worn one for some Christmas ball at university just over a year ago, and for the renewal of Brian’s parents’ vows, and both times, he’d had Brian around to help.

He swore again at the knock on his hotel room door and stomped over to go and answer it.

His Mum offered a hesitant smile as she looked over his suit and trousers. She’d styled her short blonde hair into a textured pixie cut, framing her heart-shaped face further. She was wearing a knee-length black dress and overcoat, making her seem even more petite.

“Do you need a hand with the tie?”

He struggled not to frown in response. “Please.”

She set down her bag on his bed. Then she stepped over to his side with a smile. “You look very smart in that suit.”

Roger blinked in surprise, watching her take both ends of the tie in her hands. “It belongs to Jo…a friend. I borrowed it off of them. You er…you look nice too.”

The tie had been stashed at the back of the drawer. Roger had only kept it in case he went somewhere fancy. The suit belonged to John. A fact he couldn’t tell his Mum given that she didn’t yet know about him. He hadn’t found the right moment to have _that_ conversation.

Today wasn’t the day. Though it would have been ironic to come out to her on the day of Michael’s funeral. He’d have been turning in his grave.

Roger felt a smidge of satisfaction at the thought.

Even still, it was too soon. John was his world. But telling his Mum was different to Clare. He wanted to handle things carefully. In the hope that it would be less of a shock when he did confide in her.

“That’s lucky. It fits well too. There’s probably not much call for owning a suit these days. I should imagine it’s informal get-up only at these university parties, isn’t it?”

“Pretty much.”

She hummed under her breath as she finished straightening the tie. She brushed down his shoulders, and then she pulled back to admire her work. “There we go. Perfect.”

He smiled uncertainly as she stared at him thoughtfully. “Ready to do this?”

He supposed he’d made it this far…

“Think so.”

Her expression softened in response. She pressed a hand to his arm and squeezed gently. “Come on. We’ll get through this together. The three of us.”

He took a deep breath and forced a small nod.

He kept his head down as they walked into church. When they sat, he flicked through the order of service just to try and keep his mind occupied. Then his gut twisted uncomfortably as he took in the picture of Michael on the back. He looked older than when Roger had last seen him. His hair was thinner, and there were signs of crow’s feet around his eyes.

His hands grew clammy when he realised it was his first time back in a church in years. He’d hated being forced to attend Sunday service with Clare. Forced to repent their sins like they were naughty children who were a disappointment to their father.

Roger swallowed thickly and turned to the front, trying to concentrate once the service began.

He discreetly cast his gaze around the room during one of the hymns. There was no more than a handful of people present. Nobody he recognised. He wondered if they knew what kind of man he was. Whether any of them cared?

He heard a choked sob from a woman in the front row, catching his attention. Her head was bowed, her auburn hair curtaining her face. Her shoulders shook as a man put an arm around her back.

A flare of anger sparked inside of Roger at the sight. He closed his eyes and breathed through his nose, willing himself not to lose his temper.

He felt a hand reach for his.

He opened his eyes to see his Mum giving him an encouraging smile. Then she turned and took Clare’s too, squeezing the both of theirs gently.

It helped. Knowing that they were both there, to get through today. He was grateful for that.

—

“Hello, you,” Roger said softly once John had picked up the phone.

“Hey Rog. How’d it go?”

Roger said nothing as he lit his cigarette. He propped his foot back against the wall. “It was what it was. _Shit_. Got through it though.”

“Well…that’s something, I guess,” John said a little tensely. “How are you feeling now?”

John’s concern was obvious, even through the phone. “I’m fine. Honestly. Looking forward to getting back home to you, love.”

“I can’t wait to see you either. I wish I were there with you now actually.”

Roger sighed in response because _god, how he wanted that too_. Maybe he could have been if Roger had told his Mum about John before now.

But he wanted to introduce them slowly.

The way he saw it, they had all the time in the world. John was his soulmate and he hoped they’d be together forever. Which meant, breaking it to her gently when the time was right.

“I wish you were here too, Deaky. I miss you like mad.”

He could have done with a hug from him right about now. For John to tell him that everything would be alright. He could always reassure Roger in a way that nobody else could.

“Soppy git.”

Roger grinned in response, hearing the teasing edge to John’s voice for himself. “Oy, I rang you for a bit of sympathy. Not for you to take the piss.”

“Sorry. _I love you_. Better?”

“It will do until I’m back. I’m expecting loads of TLC though, just saying.”

John laughed in response. It made Roger feel slightly giddy. He didn’t know how much he needed to hear John’s laughter until he did. He loved it. Just like he loved every part of him.

“When aren’t you?”

“Git,” Roger said lightly. “But true.”

John gave another soft laugh at his words. “Where are you now anyway?”

“Oh, at some pub Mum recommended,” Roger said as he paused to take another inhale of his cigarette. “She wanted to buy us some grub before we head back.”

“That was nice of her.”

“Yeah, yeah, it was.”

There was silence, just for a moment. Then he heard John sigh down the line. “Well, I’m glad today went alright. And that you had your Mum and your sister for support.”

“Me and you have different ideas of what we call _support_.”

“Don’t be an arse. They’ve both been there for you today.”

“I know, I know, I’m only kidding.”

“Hmm, I suppose I’d better let you go. See you in a bit?”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can. Promise.”

“Good.”

Roger smiled when he hung up. He’d needed that conversation. He immediately felt better just by hearing John’s voice.

He looked up at the click of a lighter.

A woman stumbled outside, cigarette hanging limply between her mouth. She cursed quietly as she tilted her leg to finger the snag in her tights, just by the side of her ankle. She had bright auburn hair and looked to be in her thirties or forties. She was dressed in black and looked vaguely familiar.

He turned away just as she looked up, catching his stare.

“ _You_. You were at the funeral earlier.”

 _Hence why she looked familiar_ , he thought bitterly. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, watching it fall to the floor. “What of it?”

“You obviously knew him. How?”

He felt a sense of resentment at the nerve of the woman. He was the one who should be asking _her_ that.

She scoffed as he said as much.

“I knew him better than anyone else. I was his girlfriend.”

“More fool you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he snapped, turning his head to glare at her. “The man was a coward who did all the talking with his fists. Or whatever else he could lay his hands on. He should have died years ago.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about him.”

“Unfortunately. Given he was my father. If you could call him that.”

“Ahh, I thought I recognised you.”

She tottered over unsteadily in her heels and leaned against the wall as she took an inhale of her cigarette. “Roger, right?”

He narrowed his eyes, watching her with a mixture of scepticism and confusion. “How do you know my name?”

“He used to talk about you. Sometimes. Usually after he’d had a few too many.”

Roger openly scoffed in response. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Drinking was his favourite pastime.”

“He talked about your sister too. Clare. Think that was his way of expressing his guilt for walking out on you both.”

“Not to mention his wife,” Roger added bitterly. “Not that it matters. I always said that the best thing he did was leave us the hell alone. I stand by that fact.”

“It can’t have been all bad. He was your father after all.”

He gritted his teeth and stomped his cigarette out, barely resisting the urge to reply with angry words.

“Listen, if you knew him as much as you claim you do, then you’ll know that he was a coward who got off on bullying his own family. Especially after a drink. He was never going to win an award for father of the year.”

“Maybe not. But they always say that the truth comes out when you’ve had a drink,” she said as she put out her cigarette too. She folded her arms across her chest and looked at him closely. “That’s probably why he spent so much time talking about you and your sister.”

Roger had heard enough. He shook his head in response.

“But not the chained ex-wife he spent years controlling and abusing? Clearly he hadn’t changed that much in the eleven years we’ve not had contact.”

“He mentioned her too actually. I reckon he might have changed more than you think.”

He rolled his eyes obviously in response as he set down his foot again. “More fool you if you think that.”

“Don’t take my word for it. He actually wrote you a—”

“—There you are. Mum sent me to find you.”

Roger tried to keep his expression even as Clare headed outside. She looked between them curiously, before her eyes settled back on Roger.

“Have you had a cigarette? Without me?”

“Mum would smell it on you. Then she’d kill me for letting you have one.”

“Spoilsport,” she grumbled before her gaze drifted over the woman again. “Weren’t you at the funeral?”

“Yeah, she knew Michael,” Roger said, gently tugging his sister back towards the entrance of the pub. “Come on, we should get back inside.”

Clare gave her another look from over her shoulder. Then she followed Roger.

One of the waiters approached their table not long after, just as his Mum and sister had gone to the bathroom.

“A lady asked a member of staff to pass this onto you before she left.”

It was an envelope addressed to Roger. He thought about telling him to shred it. Instead, he quickly pocketed it with the intention of getting rid of it later.

—

Roger didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful to see John. By his reaction, he felt the same way. He gave a tired chuckle as John rushed forwards to hug him. “Hey you.”

“Hey yourself,” John said just as softly, his arms tightening around him. “Missed you.”

“And you accused me of being a soppy git.”

“Yeah, but it’s allowed. I promised you TLC, remember?”

“I won’t argue with that.”

John scoffed in reply. “That’ll be a first.”

Roger dumped his overnight bag in the corner of their room with the intention of sorting it out later. Then he settled on the sofa whilst John went to make tea, careful not to mention the funeral.

“Roger?”

“Yeah?” Roger called back, partly distracted by the repeat of _Vicar of Dibley_ that was on the television.

“What’s this?”

“What’s what—”

He looked up to see John stood in the doorway, his jacket thrown over arm. In the other hand, was the envelope Roger had stuffed inside his pocket. He regretted not throwing it away immediately.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s addressed to you.”

“It’s not important. You might as well chuck it. I was going to, but I forgot about it.”

John stared at him perplexed, his eyebrows furrowed. “How do you know if you haven’t even opened it?”

Roger sighed in response. “ _Because_! It’s from that knobhead, isn’t it? I assume. It’s his bloody writing. His girlfriend gave it to some waiter to pass onto me back at the pub.”

“Girlfriend?”

“It’s a long story. Look. The point is—I don’t want it. Burn it for all I care.”

John hesitated, watching the way Roger sat forwards with a huff. “You might change your mind. You might want to read it one day.”

“Doubtful,” Roger said, wiggling his toes and trying to resist the temptation to fidget or stand and pace. “I’ve wasted enough time on that man. I don’t intend on wasting anymore.”

“Fine, then what about your sister or Mum? You’re robbing them the chance of reading what he has to say—”

“—How can you say that?” Roger asked as calmly as he could. “I’m doing them a favour! What could he possibly have to say that will make up for everything that he put us through?”

“Nothing will do that. Obviously. But what if it’s enough to give you closure—”

“—It won’t!” Roger insisted firmly, pushing his hair back from his face as he finally stood and moved to look out of the window. “I just want to move on. I went to his funeral. I said my goodbyes. Is that not enough?”

The snow was starting to settle.

He’d loved seeing it as a child. He’d only had one white Christmas, back when he was seven. Their father had been nursing a hangover. Their Mum was confined to the kitchen. And them to their rooms, desperate not to upset him. He’d already refused to let them go outside to build a snowman.

Anger surged through him at the thought of what a miserable time it had been for the three of them. “He’s still hanging over us.”

It was only as he said it that he realised the truthfulness of his words. There would always be reminders, even from beyond the grave. No escape. No chance of forgetting.

He was sick of it all. Sick of feeling so trapped in the past.

He let out a frustrated groan and turned to kick the leg of the coffee table in temper.

John’s eyes widened slightly in response. “Roger—”

“—I hate him! I fucking hate him, John! I wish he’d never been my father!”

His anger vanished as quickly as it had come. His foot throbbed, as if mocking him for letting it get the better of him. Instead, he was left with a bitter embarrassment at his own outburst and an emptiness he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time. His breath hitched, giving himself away. Tears collected in his eyes without his permission. It was made worst by the look of sympathy on John’s face.

“D-don’t,” Roger gasped, quickly turning away.

He wanted to shout that he was only crying because he was angry. But he could barely catch his breath. Instead, he tried to sniffle discreetly as John wrapped his arms around him tightly.

“It’s alright, Rog,” John whispered soothingly against his ear. “Let it out. I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

His words opened the floodgates, bringing with it, years of pent-up emotion.

And then Roger was angry once again. Angry at letting himself be so weak over somebody who didn’t even deserve it.

He went to bed early. Desperate to hide away. To forget the whole day.

He pretended he was already asleep when John came to bed. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be comforted by the way that John tugged him closer and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

He lay awake most of the night, thinking. Mulling things over in his head. When the sun started to rise, he’d made his decision.

—

By the time John woke, Roger had been up for a while, stewing about everything whilst sipping on lukewarm coffee.

“Rog? How long have you been awake?” John blinked at him blearily eyed from the doorway, his voice thick with sleep.

“A couple of hours. I think.”

“I didn’t hear you get up.”

“No, you were sparko.”

John gave a small nod, his gaze flickering across his face as he went to sit beside him on the sofa. “You dwelling on that letter?”

“A bit.”

“Well don’t,” John said with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to make you open it. He probably addressed it to you because you’re the eldest. Which means you should decide what to do with it. I’ll say no more about it.”

It would be too easy to say yes. Instead, he said—

“No, you were right. I’m taking Clare and Mum’s choice away by just getting rid of it. If I don’t open it, I think there’s a chance that I’ll always be wondering what it says. So, in a way, I’m still giving him power over my life. And I don’t want that. Not anymore.” Roger said carefully, fingering the edge of his mug as he talked. “But I think it’s best that I read it first. Then I’ll pass it onto my sister and my Mum, and they can decide what they want to do with it.”

“If that’s what you want,” John said carefully as he reached for his hand. He squeezed it reassuringly. “Why don’t I make us a fresh cup of coffee first? Then, I can stay sat beside you if you like? Whilst you read it. So that you don’t have to do it alone.”

“Okay,” Roger said quietly. “I’d like that.”

Once John came back, he settled against Roger’s side ad handed him the envelope. He stayed silent as Roger opened it, a hand against his leg. Reminding him he was next to him the whole time.

Roger appreciated that more than he could ever know.

He unfolded the letter inside and began to read.

_Roger_

_Where do I begin? I guess I owe you an explanation, about why I’m writing this. I wanted to write down everything I’ve been feeling the last couple of years. Now that I’m finally starting to get myself sober and seeing a proper counsellor. The regret, the shame, the remorse that I feel for everything that I put you, Clare, and Winifred through. I know that will never be enough._

_I addressed it to you because you’re my eldest. It’s up to you whether you give it to your sister and mother. Or whether you’ll even want to read it yourself. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t._

_Every horrible thing that I once believed, I learned from my own father._

_But that’s no excuse._

_I was a cruel husband, and an even worst father._

_When Winifred first told me she was pregnant, I was terrified. I’d never wanted kids. I grew up in a violent household myself. But I vowed to do the right thing. Which meant getting married and finding a stable job. Both of which, I didn’t do very well at._

_I was a loser; I’ll probably always be a loser._

_Anyway, I guess the novelty wore off in the end. It was too easy to slip into old habits. To seek refuge in the bottle and be bitter about the sort of man I’d let myself become._

_I reacted horribly when I came home to find you and that boy. You were just kids. I’ve always known you were different. That’s why I freaked out when you hung the posters of those singers on your wall. That’s why I got so angry that day. And worst of all, why I tried to send you away. I feel so ashamed to admit that now. But I was scared. I’d had friends growing up who were gay. I saw the abuse they dealt with. And it was the thought of you, my own son, having to go through that, which caused me to react like I did._

_I was wrong. I’m sorry. I know it’ll never be enough to make up for all that I did. And I’m not writing this to ask for your forgiveness as I know I don’t deserve it. But I wanted to explain. So that one day, maybe you’ll learn to understand._

_You shielded Clare for most of my behaviour. I should never have put you in that position._

_The likelihood is that if you’re reading this, then I’m dead. I’ve given Saskia specific instructions to pass this onto you only if that happens. Because I don’t want to impose on your lives. I’ve no right._

_You’re better off without me as a father anyway._

_I hope wherever the three of you are, you’re happy and safe, and that you’ll learn from the mistakes I made, especially if you have kids of your own._

_Michael_

The handwriting was different to the one on the envelope. Hardly surprising considering Michael could barely spell his own name. He’d presumably gotten _Saskia_ to write it for him.

Roger swallowed thickly, trying to process everything as he passed it onto John to read.

“Well, that was informative,” John said carefully as he put the letter back in the envelope and set it aside. He turned back to look at Roger. “How do you feel now you’ve read it?”

It was a good question.

He shrugged in response. “I…don’t really know. Surprised, maybe? He’s never talked about his feelings like that before. Or his parents. Not from what I remember anyway.”

“What did he mean? About trying to send you away?” John asked with a slight frown.

“Huh?”

“In the letter, he said something along the lines of _worse than that, I tried to send you away_.”

There’d been so much to take in. Roger hadn’t even remembered reading that. “Pass. Mum’s never mentioned that. Then again, she’s never talked about our life before Michael walked out on us.”

John nodded; his expression thoughtful as he leaned close enough to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “At least, it’s done now. No more wondering about what it might say.”

“Exactly.”

“Will you give it to Clare and your Mum?”

“I think I should. It’s like you said. They have the right to decide for themselves.”

John hummed in response, tilting his head to rest it against Roger’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you. _Seriously_ ,” he added when Roger scoffed. “I know it wasn’t easy going to his funeral. Or reading that letter. But you did it anyway. You’ve been so strong. When it could have been too easy to pretend none of it was happening.”

Roger smiled in response, leaning his head atop of John’s. “Thanks, Deacs. For being here like you have been.”

“I’ll always be here for you, Rog,” John said softly.

Afterwards, they settled on the sofa and watched television. Roger was on the verge of falling asleep, his head in John’s lap, and John’s hand in his hair, brushing it back from his face with the gentlest of touches.

“How about we order Chinese tonight? Stay in and chill out.”

Roger blinked sluggishly at the screen. They were watching a repeat of _Home Alone_.

“ _Hmm_ , okay. We didn’t have anything planned, right?”

“Erm…no. Nothing important.”

His tone caught Roger’s attention. He turned his head, peering up at John uncertainly. Trying to work out what he wasn’t telling him. Then he remembered.

“ _Fuck_! I completely forgot what day it is! We made plans to hang out with Freddie, Brian and Lewis!”

John only smiled in response. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve had a lot going on. I forgot myself until this morning, to be honest. I’ll just text and rearrange. We can binge-watch that new murder mystery series you’ve been on about if you want?”

“But you were really excited about going.”

“Doesn’t matter. The club will be heaving anyway. I doubt we’ll miss much.”

Roger sat up on his elbows and shook his head. “No, we should go. It’ll be fun, and it might do me some good to get out of the house.”

John still looked unsure. “We don’t have to…”

“I know, but I want to. Seriously. A healthy bit of distraction for both of us. I’ll even let you dance with me. As its New Year’s Eve.”

“Alright, deal,” John said with a small smile.

—

The club was right up John’s street. It played the kind of disco classics which had him bolting for the dancefloor once he’d had a couple of drinks for Dutch courage.

Roger was happy to watch from afar, safely positioned at the bar. He’d managed to escape thus far but knew John wouldn’t forget his promise of a dance.

Brian remained at his side. Roger was pretty sure he too was putting off dancing with Freddie.

He caught the way Freddie, John and Lewis were all bopping to _Disco Inferno_ , smiles on each of their faces. He took in the glee in John’s eyes, the way he swayed his hips, his head bouncing with the music. His heart skipped a beat at the very sight.

 _God, he was too damn cute for his own good sometimes_.

The positive with John being distracted with dancing was that Roger was free to check him out. To remind himself once again about how lucky he was to have him in his life. He’d been there for Roger, especially in more recent times.

 _What a difference a year makes_ , he thought wistfully.

He was so focused that he didn’t notice Brian leaning in to shout into his ear. He almost jumped at how close his voice was.

“John told us about your Dad. He also told me not to say anything, but I just wanted to remind you that I’m here if you needed a chat.”

Roger could hardly hold it against him for that.

“Thanks Bri. I’m fine though. I talked about it with John, after the funeral. I don’t want to waste any more time going over everything again, you know?”

“Fair enough,” Brian said carefully. “Speaking of waste, shame your sister couldn’t come.”

Clare had already made plans to celebrate with her flatmates. Roger didn’t mind too much given that he’d seen her for most of Christmas.

“I’ll probably see her in a couple of weeks. Once she’s settled back into uni. We already said about going for a drink or whatever.”

“That’ll be nice. Shame Lewis is on his own too.”

Roger gave him a look in response, knowing _exactly_ where Brian was going with that one. Lewis dumped Mattie seemingly out of the blue two weeks ago. And who was the first person he called to tell as such? _John_.

“Shall we skip the part where we pretend Freddie hasn’t filled you in on all the juicy gossip?”

Brian huffed in response. “Not true. We just happened to be in the vicinity when John was on the phone to Lewis. The fact that he got the call whilst he was still around ours is merely coincidental.”

“Well, wasn’t that _handy_.”

Brian said nothing for a long moment, instead eyeing him a little warily. “You look worried. You’re not, are you? Not just because Lewis is technically back on the market.”

Roger wrinkled his nose in response. “ _Back on the market_? You make it sound like he’s a house that’s up for sale.”

“It’s what people say. When people are newly single again.”

“Do they? I wouldn’t know. Given I was single for most of the time. Before John anyway.”

Brian scoffed in response. “Not that that stopped you, of course. I remember a time you brought somebody new back to the flat almost every week.”

“You know what they say. It helps to try before you buy.”

“You’re an absolute _wanker_ , you know that?”

Roger grinned, his gaze quickly moving back to John. “Not anymore, mate. No need to be. If you catch my drift—”

“— _Please_ stop talking,” Brian wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Before my ears bleed.”

Roger laughed in response. “Let me make it up by buying you another drink instead.”

“Yeah, go on then, it is New Year’s Eve after all.”

“Good excuse as any,” Roger grinned.

They managed to get another couple of rounds in before they were finally dragged onto the dancefloor by Freddie and John respectively.

Not that Roger minded all that much.

 _I Feel Love_ was playing. It was one of John’s favourite songs.

John’s body was pressed to his in such a delicious way, his arms tangled around his neck. It made trying to concentrate on anything else almost impossible. Apart from the sweet flush of desire that came with having him so close.

John seemed to read his mind. If the mischievous glint in his eyes was anything to go by. One hand folded into the back of Roger’s hair as he leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. “Have I mentioned that I _really_ like this song?”

Roger smiled, trying not to grow too distracted by the compelling sway of John’s hips. “Once or twice.”

“Do you wanna’ know what else I’d like?”

His voice had grown huskier. A shiver ran down Roger’s spine in response.

He felt giddy at the way John was looking at him, eyes sparkling from under the disco lights.

Roger found himself desperate to know the answer. “What’s that?”

“Me and you. In some back room of this club. Fucking to this song. With anyone being able to walk in on us.”

The very thought made Roger’s skin prickle with heat.

Then John purposely drove his hips forward with a confident smile, enough that Roger could feel John’s erection against his thigh.

He gasped in response, already incredibly aroused.

He loved it when John spontaneously took charge. More often than not, it would be after he’d had a drink and been dancing for a while. Hence why Roger didn’t mind John’s love of the latter.

The mad thing was John barely had to lift a finger. A little bit of dirty talk was more than enough to get Roger interested. As it was, he had to fight the urge not to push him against the nearest wall and have him there and then for the world to see.

Instead, he cradled John’s head between his hands and crashed his lips against his. John sighed in response, his hand tightening against his hair slightly. The feel of John’s tongue against his had Roger grasping his arse, pulling him flush against him. It was intense, in the best way, and he craved _more_.

When they eventually broke apart, they were both as breathless.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Roger moaned a little desperately against his ear. “ _Fuck John_ , I love it when you tease me like this.”

“Yeah?” John said gravelly. “I’ll do more than that if you want. How about we see the new year in with my mouth around your pretty cock?”

 _Christ_ , Roger thought with a groan. “ _God yes_. Come with me to the loos. Right now.”

John laughed at the way Roger tugged on his hand rather impatiently, almost dragging him from the dancefloor in his haste.

o-o-o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!
> 
> I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and New Years. I did! I am now at the end of my isolation period and luckily, no symptoms! We think my Mum's boss may have picked COVID up after she saw Mum so we were very lucky.  
> Anyway, I will pick my new car up any day now, once the insurance money comes in. EXCITING!!  
> I'm finally seeing Bee, my girlfriend tomorrow for a walk outside, which will be lovely. I've not seen her for two weeks. It's been the longest fortnight of my life. :(
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'll try and upload the last one by the weekend at the latest, and then jump straight back into Let Your Head Rule Your Heart which I think all of you will be VERY PLEASED with the next chapter. Eeeeek that's all I'm saying. Take care everyone and most importantly, stay safe. It's getting scary out there again, and if you're government is anything like ours, they're useless.  
> Thanks again for such lovely comments. <3


	3. We've Had Our Hopes and Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang continue to enjoy their NYE. Lewis gives Roger food for thought, persuading Roger to make an important decision...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating is for swearing mostly.

They were like two giddy teenagers when they stumbled out of the Men’s a while later. With their boyish grins, and flushed cheeks. Add into the equation how John’s hair was slightly tousled, and Roger’s fly was undone, and it was probably a giveaway as to what they’d been up to.

Freddie looked between them with a raised eyebrow and a sassy comment along the lines of; _looks like a certain two have been having their own celebration into the new year. Which reminds me. Roger dear? You’re flying low._

He’d said it loud enough for them all to hear. Then grinned when Roger quickly fixed his jeans with slightly flushed cheeks.

Brian just rolled his eyes and offered to get another round in.

As for Lewis.

Lewis looked between them evenly. But it was impossible to miss the envy in his eyes as the two of them went back to dancing. Especially when John leaned in to share another kiss with Roger. Then he downed his next drink and made an excuse about needing fresh air.

John watched him bolt for the exit, his concern obvious. He turned back to speak into Roger’s ear. “Do you think I should go after him? He might still be upset about the break-up.”

 _That seems to be the least of his concerns_ , Roger thought a little bitterly. Instead, he said; “I’ll go.”

“ _You_? Think that’s a good idea?”

“Don’t look so worried babe. I can be comforting when I need to be.” Roger said with the most reassuring smile he could muster. When John made a disbelieving noise, Roger responded by giving him a quick peck. “I’ll be right back, Deacy. I fancied a ciggie anyway.”

“Okay.”

He found Lewis outside, stood further up from a group of girls. They turned their heads to look at Roger. Then descended into high-pitched giggles once he’d walked past. He noticed how Lewis rolled his eyes as he lifted a cigarette to his lips.

“Hey. Didn’t know you smoked,” Roger said casually as he retrieved his cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Only really bother if I’ve had a drink.”

Roger hummed as he lit one, before popping the lighter away again. “Fair enough. John doesn’t really like smoking, but I’ve managed to cut right back. Only have the odd few on a night out.”

“Right.”

There was enough tension to make Roger feel slightly uncomfortable. It was so quiet that he could hear the click-clack of the girls heels and their excited chatter before they headed inside.

He hated silence. He was always tempted to fill it with meaningless small talk.

Except with John. It was the only place he could be himself without the need of a façade. John was his _home_ , where he could be most vulnerable.

“Well, I’m gonna’ go back in—”

“—So how come you and Mattie broke up then—”

Lewis stopped speaking first, his expression hardening as he stared at Roger. That was probably to be expected given John’s suggestion that they tip-toe around the subject to avoid upsetting him. But Roger had said the first thing that came into his head, and as usual, ended up putting his foot in his mouth. Figuratively speaking.

Lewis dropped his gaze as he put out his cigarette, and Roger felt a smidge of guilt.

“It’s complicated. You’ll excuse me for not wanting to talk about it with _you_.”

He quickly bit the edge of his lip, holding back the observation that Lewis seemed far less inclined when he was on the phone with John more than a week ago. Instead, he said—

“I’d feel the same if John broke up with me. Think I’d probably just hideout at Brian and Freddie’s, eat far too much ice cream and cry into my pillow,” Roger admitted with a sheepish smile. It was his poor attempt at lightening the mood. “Just…you know. Don’t tell John I said that. I’ve got some sort of self-respect; however small that might seem.”

“If you say so. Anyway, I’m cold, and I’ve finished my cigarette, so I’ll leave you to it—”

“—Another?”

Lewis looked between Roger and the packet of cigarettes he was holding out sceptically. Not surprising, given that they were barely on speaking terms.

“Spit it out, Roger. Do us both a favour.”

 _Well, that makes things easier_.

Roger took a long breath, steadying himself first. “Alright, that works for me.”

He stomped out his cigarette so that he didn’t have to look at him whilst he said it.

“Complicated or not, it’s easy to guess why you really broke up with Mattie. We both know that if John so much as clicked his fingers, you’d be there like a shot.”

That was obvious. Even if John was blindsided to it, due to having his best friend back in his life.

“You and John seem to have different… _expectations_ when it comes to your friendship. The point is, John doesn’t see you like that anymore. If I thought he did, I’d have backed off weeks ago.”

He’d have been devastated. But he’d have done it. For John’s sake. He’d given him the chance when Lewis turned up at the end of September. Instead, John had reassured him that he was invested in their relationship just as much as Roger was.

It hadn’t stopped Lewis from staring longingly. Just like Roger used to. Torturing himself from afar.

“How chivalrous of you,” Lewis scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he folded his arms across his chest. “So is this your way of warning me off?”

“More of a polite reminder that things are different now. I’m not the same arsehole I was. As difficult as that is to believe,” Roger added quickly when Lewis raised his eyebrows mockingly. “And John is…well, he knows his own mind. He isn’t as timid as he might have been about speaking it. He’s more confident in himself, happier even. I like to think that some of that is down to me, at least.”

“Without blowing your own trumpet, of course.”

“Exactly,” Roger smiled, letting Lewis’s sarcasm wash over his head. “Anyway, I’m not saying any of that to be cruel.”

“No, you’re saying it to reiterate the point that I need to move on too. Like it’s so easy,” Lewis said with a frown. “Fine, so maybe I still love John. Deep down.”

Somehow, Lewis saying it so plainly managed to render him silent for once. He’d finally admitted Roger’s biggest fear.

“But as you’ve already pointed out, John knows his own mind and clearly doesn’t feel the same way. So if you’re worried that I broke up with Mattie just to try and win him back, then _don’t bother_. That isn’t my intention. Not when he’s so obviously happy. But only out of respect for him, not you.”

Roger said nothing, watching Lewis shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He caught the way he pursed his lips to stop them from shaking, and the way he cleared his throat.

“I got back in contact because John’s my friend and I missed him. Not because I expected anything,” Lewis said, as he stared across at the kebab shop on the other side of the road. “But it does piss me off a bit. Especially when you haven’t even got the balls to tell your Mum about him.”

Roger’s stomach dropped. _John wouldn’t have told him, surely?_ His expression must have given him away as Lewis continued to explain.

“We got talking about family. I asked about whether your Mum knew. John didn’t want to talk about it. It didn’t take an idiot to guess what that meant,” Lewis said casually. “I also got the impression that family is a sore subject for you. In the same way that this break-up is for me.”

“ _Touché_ ,” Roger said rather reluctantly. Then he sighed. It felt like they were going round in circles. “Look, Lewis. I understand you have assumptions about me. I think we can agree we’ll never be best friends. But why don’t we try and be civil instead? Purely, for John’s sake if nothing else.”

“And you reckon it’ll be that simple, do you?” 

“No, but it’s a start. Best option is to take a leaf out of John’s book. Let bygones be bygones. At least he won’t feel as if he’s stuck in the middle or whatever.”

Lewis stared at him for a moment, as if considering the idea. Then he gave a small nod. Much to Roger’s relief. “Alright. But only for John.”

“Agreed,” Roger said quietly. He ran a hand through his hair, still feeling a little awkward. He could have left it there. Could have been happy that they’d agreed to put their feelings aside for John’s sake. But it didn’t seem enough. “Listen, I feel like I need to make something clear. What happened to John at school…he didn’t deserve any of it. I know that.”

“No, he didn’t.”

Roger fought not to fidget under Lewis’s gaze. “And I meant what I said. About backing off if it was what he wanted. John deserves to be happy, more than anyone. Point is, I understand why you feel protective over him. But I swear on my life that I’ll never hurt him like that again. I’d sooner hurt myself.”

Lewis nodded slowly as he watched Roger closely. “Fine. Then if that’s the case, me and you aren’t going to have a problem.”

“Good,” Roger said uncertainly. _It was a start_ , he mused.

Lewis went back inside after that. Roger decided to have one more cigarette alone.

The fresh air sobered him up a bit, leaving him with his thoughts. He went over their conversation, some of his words repeating in his head on a loop.

 _Especially when you haven’t even got the balls to tell your Mum about him_.

As much as Roger was loathed to admit it, he was right. He was still being a coward. Still choosing to lie about who he really was to certain people.

But now, there seemed little point. He could finally be free.

Worst case scenario was if his Mum turned her back on him. But he’d still have John. Clare. Brian. Freddie.

He reached for his phone before he could talk himself out of it again. She answered on the third ring.

“Hello Roger. Everything alright?”

“Hey Mum. Yeah, everything’s fine, tar. I thought I’d ring and say happy new year.”

He knew she’d be awake, not long having got back from the clubhouse at the end of her road. Now that both of her children had flown the nest, her and a group of friends tried to meet when they could. The last few years, they’d all made the effort to attend the New Year’s Eve disco together. His Mum always seemed to enjoy it.

“Happy new year, sweetheart. I’d have thought you’d be out partying with friends.”

“I am. I’ve just stepped out for a cigarette,” he said as he flicked the ash to the floor absentmindedly.

She clicked her tongue in response. “I wish you’d quit. Smoking is no good for you, Roger.”

“Yes, I know. Brian’s already lectured me over this many times,” Roger said teasingly. “I am giving up slowly. I’ve got it down to the occasional couple on a night out. Thought that was easier than trying to go cold turkey.”

“I suppose that’s something,” she said lightly. “Are you having a nice time anyway? Are you at a pub or something?”

“A club. And yeah, it’s been alright. The music isn’t really my cup of tea, but I think Jo—”

He suddenly stopped speaking.

He’d had many slip-ups over the last couple of weeks. Like when he’d itched to tell her at his father’s funeral. Or at Christmas, after he’d had one too many and his Mum asked if he’d got a girlfriend yet. Whilst Clare fidgeted nervously in the background.

He wanted to be able to gush about John to his Mum, just like he had with Clare. But it was his uncertainty on whether she’d be okay with it that had him holding back.

His Mum stayed silent as he took an inhale of his cigarette. It gave him the confidence to take a deep breath and let the words spill from his lips.

“I’ve got something to tell you. I keep putting it off because I’m fucking terrified at how you’re going to react. Pardon the swearing,” Roger added quickly, knowing how much his Mum hated it. He resisted biting his nails by taking another drag of his cigarette instead and moving further away from the door and the bouncer. He was suddenly desperate for a little privacy. “But I’m done keeping it a secret like it’s something to be ashamed of. Because I’m not. I’m happy. Happier than I think I’ve ever been, in fact.”

“Am I…supposed to be following where you’re going with this?”

She sounded beyond confused. Roger sighed wearily, knowing he’d likely have to spell it out for her. “I’ve met someone. Although, I’ve been with them for a while, and it’s gotten pretty serious.”

“That’s fantastic news, Roger!” His Mum said immediately. He could practically feel her smiling down the phone. “I’m so pleased for you!”

“You don’t understand. It’s with a man. I’m bisexual. I’ve known for a long time. Most of my life actually. All you need to know is that this isn’t a phase or something I’m going through. Nor is it like the fleeting relationships I’ve had in the past. It matters. Things are going really well.”

Roger was met with a short silence. Unsurprisingly. Followed by—

“ _Oh_.”

“Yeah.”

He wanted to keep talking, explaining. Instead, he left the ball in her court.

“I’m glad you’ve found somebody that makes you happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Regardless of whether that’s with a man or a woman.”

He didn’t know what to say. Other than; _that wasn’t the reaction he was expecting_. He heard her huff down the line in response.

“No? Expected me to be shocked? Or worse than that, disgusted? Do you think so little of me, Roger?”

“Of course not, I just—”

He paused mid-sentence, unable to offer up anything useful. The truth was that he didn’t have a clue as to how she might react, which was why he’d been so terrified. It seemed laughable now to have spent so long torn up about coming out, only for his Mum to react as though it wasn’t a big deal.

“I didn’t know what to think. Michael made his opinion clear about anyone who was gay, loads of times.”

“Yes, he did. And I should have had the courage to stand up to him sooner than I did on that one!”

Roger remained quiet, a little taken aback by the venom in his Mum’s voice. They barely talked about his father, even at his funeral.

“He’d always been hideously old-fashioned. He thought wives belonged at home, in the kitchen. That sort of thing. He also believed that marriage should only be between men and women. None of what he preached was true, nor did I believe in any of that myself. I’m sorry if I ever made you think that I did.”

“I…” Roger trailed off uncertainly. He pushed his hair back and tried again. “It’s not your fault, Mum. But I think that’s why I was so scared about coming out, and why I behaved like I did at school. You were right, the day after I got excluded. About how I was following the same road as Michael—”

“—Listen sweetheart. I should never have said that—”

“— _Yes_ , you should have, Mum! Because it was true, and I needed a wake-up call. I helped make John’s life hell, and I’ll regret that until the day I die,” Roger confessed a little shakily. He quickly wiped at his eyes, refusing to let the tears escape. He wasn’t worthy of it, not in that moment. “Luckily for me, I was given another chance to make things right. You remember how I was telling you about Brian getting engaged to Freddie?”

“Yes, and I told you then that I was happy for him. Just as I would be if it happened to you.”

“But in my head, it was different because Brian isn’t your son. Stupid, I know,” Roger confessed sheepishly. “Anyway, we had this engagement dinner for them, and it turned out John is Freddie’s best friend. That’s how we got back into contact again.”

“Oh, I see. And is…John the guy you’re dating now then?”

His Mum could obviously sense where this was going before Roger even had to say it.

“Yeah, yeah, he is.” Roger said softly. “He’s pretty amazing. Obviously, it took a bit of time to get him to trust me, but it was worth it. Before him, I didn’t believe in any of that romance crap. And now, it’s like…at the risk of sounding soft, he’s my soulmate. I feel completely happy just by being with him.”

“Never be afraid of showing your emotions, Roger. They’re a sign of strength, not a weakness,” his Mum quickly assured him.

“Thanks Mum,” Roger said mildly.

He couldn’t get his head around how easy it had been. He felt beyond relieved to know that their relationship would no longer be a secret. He could finally be honest about John, without the fear of being disowned or his Mum not being able to accept it.

“If you’re still wondering why I don’t sound surprised, Roger sweetie, it’s because I’m not,” his Mum said, as if somehow guessing his thoughts. “If anything, I was more taken aback when you started showing an interest in girls.”

Roger’s eyebrows furrowed in response; his confusion obvious to anyone who might look at him. “Really? Why?”

“Because of that friend of yours back in primary. I always had a suspicion, whether it was mother’s intuition, I don’t know. But then I came home to find Michael shouting about you and the boy kissing and…well, it all just seemed to make sense. About how you were obviously gay.”

 _Obviously gay_.

Was it really that clear for the world to see? His Mum seemed to think so.

“That was why I stood up to him that day. I wanted to protect you. I thought he’d kill you if he had the chance. But I was wrong. What he wanted was worse. To send you away to one of those conversion therapies in America.”

Roger was numb with shock.

He’d never known. He’d not been able to tell what exactly his parents had been shouting that day.

_And worst of all, why I tried to send you away._

That was what his father had been referring to in that letter. The thought of his son being gay was obviously so repelling that he thought he needed to be sent away to be cured.

Roger felt sick at the thought of it. He didn’t know how to process that.

“I told him there was no way I was going to let that happen. In fact, I think my exact words were _over my dead body_. He was the one who was sick. He ended up losing his temper as always. Then he asked for a divorce. I said I was more than happy to grant him one on the basis that me, you and Clare could move away.”

Roger could guess the rest. No wonder his father never bothered looking for them.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It never has, not to me. I’d like to meet John properly. As your boyfriend, if I could.”

“Yeah, I’d like that. I’m sure John would too.”

“Excellent. Perhaps I could come down and see this flat of yours. I assume the two of you live together.”

“Yeah, we do. We moved in together in September.”

She hummed in response. “And it’s going well?”

“Yeah, really well.”

“Good,” she said lightly. “I look forward to seeing you both.”

“Yeah, yeah, me too,” Roger said, and then he paused. “I erm…I love you, Mum.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” she replied immediately, as if Roger saying so wasn’t a rare occurrence.

He smiled to himself in response. He felt so much better for having that conversation. But he knew he needed to be honest with her about one more thing. “I erm, I thought you should know too. Well, you and Clare actually. I got given a letter from a friend of Michael’s after the funeral. It was addressed to me.”

—

“ _What the fuck_?”

John had remained quiet whilst Roger filled him in on the phone call with his Mum. Until he finished.

“Rog, that’s…that’s so fucked up.” John said with a slow shake of his head. “You were just a kid. It was _his_ job to protect you. Not try and send you away for bloody Therapy. It’s just…it’s not right.”

Roger could only hum as he stepped out of his jeans. “I guess it’s hardly surprising. Given the views he had on those sorts of things.”

He could feel the intensity of John’s stare as he threw his jeans in the direction of the washing basket in the corner of the room, along with his shirt. His Mum knowing about John felt like a weight had been lifted. But it was also difficult not to let himself dwell on other parts of their conversation.

“Are you ready for bed?”

“Yeah.”

He left his boxers on. Outside, the temperature had dropped, and the flat didn’t feel as warm as it usually did.

“Good. Come here then.”

He pulled back the duvet, ready for Roger to join him in their bed. He padded over and slid under the covers, curling himself around John’s warmth.

John wound an arm around his waist, pulling Roger closer still, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It took guts coming out to your Mum like that.”

“She took it really well. Made things easier.”

“Still. It’s one less thing to worry about. I’m glad she’s already mentioned meeting up. She could stay in the spare room if that helps. Given how long her journey will be from Cornwall.”

“Yeah, she could do. I’ll suggest the idea when I next speak to her.”

Roger focused on the way John’s thumb was circling his hipbone, his gentle touch slowly distracting him from all that was plaguing his mind.

“You’ve handled things so well, you know? I’m not sure I’d have been able to cope with it all like you have,” John said softly as his gaze continued to linger on Roger’s face.

“It is what it is, Deacs. Obviously, it hurts to know that my own father thought I needed to be sent away to get help. But am I surprised? Given how obvious he made his opinion whilst I was growing up. Not really. He said it himself. Every horrible thing he believed; he’d learned from his own father.” Roger recalled with a sigh. “Whether he’d changed as he got older, softened maybe, makes no odds to me. The only thing that I care about is making sure I don’t repeat his mistakes. Or run the risk of becoming like him.”

John gave him an encouraging smile in response. “You’re nothing like him, Rog.”

“And that’s how I want it to stay,” Roger said simply. Then he pressed himself closer, burying his face against John’s chest. “Thank you. For being here and… _you know_. Just listening to me talk about it all. It helps, Deacs, seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you, to be honest.”

John’s arm tightened around him in response. “I promise you’ll never have to find out.”

—

John set aside the treacle sponge, leaving it to cool in its tin, just as Roger got home. He dropped his keys on the table and hummed appreciatively.

“It smells amazing in here. What has my talented boyfriend been baking now?”

John smiled as he put the chicken in the oven. “Treacle sponge. I remember you saying it was your Mum’s favourite.”

“And a roast for dinner too?” Roger enquired as he took in the saucepan of potatoes and vegetables on the stove, ready to be cooked in a bit. “What did I ever do in life to deserve somebody as amazing as you?”

“Yeah, yeah, you flatterer,” John teased, hoping that his cheeks hadn’t turned too pink at the compliment. He supposed he could always blame it on being in a hot kitchen for most of the afternoon. “I thought I’d make the most of my day off. It probably won’t be as good as your Mum’s roast, but hopefully she’ll appreciate the sentiment.”

“Deacy, she’ll be touched by all this, trust me. Anyway, you never give yourself credit. You’re an amazing cook. I can’t wait to eat it all. It certainly won’t get wasted, that’s for sure.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

John flashed a teasing smile as he drifted over to his side and kissed him. Roger relaxed immediately, wrapping his arms around his waist and tugging him closer.

It was too easy for John to lose himself in the warmth of Roger’s embrace, in his sweet kisses.

 _Far too easy in fact_.

He blinked sluggishly as Roger eventually pulled away to gaze at him. His mind was still a little foggy.

Roger smiled as if he could somehow read his thoughts.

“Good day?” John choked out, partly distracted by the flutter of butterflies that he still got whenever the two of them kissed.

“Yeah, not bad. We’re slowly getting there with the album. I reckon even Crystal’s missed me over Christmas. Not that he’d admit it, of course.”

John grinned in response. “Is that your way of saying he went easy on you on your first day back?”

“Well, you know Crystal. He still moaned about me _rabbiting on about Christmas and getting in the fucking way_ whilst I graciously tried to help dismantle the drums. But then I promised him a free beer at some point, make up for the fact that he was barely required over the couple of days that I had off for the funeral. That seemed to go down a treat.”

“I’m still not totally convinced this Crystal even likes you. Every time you mention him, he seems annoyed at you for something. Understandable though, given how much time he’s forced to spend with you—”

“—Oi!” Roger interrupted with a dramatic gasp. He dipped his hands into the back pocket of John’s jeans just so that he could feel his arse on the sly. “Some would say he’s _very_ lucky to spend so much time with me. I’m adorable! Plus, I make a great cup of coffee.”

“About the only thing you can make.”

Roger sniffed in response, his lips shaping themselves into a pout. “My talents are overlooked in this house, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re not appreciated at all,” John teased. He couldn’t resist dipping his head and kissing away the adorable pout still on Roger’s face. He kissed him back, one of his hands moving up to fold into his hair. He whined a little as John pulled away, causing him to smile in response.

“Anyway,” Roger said slightly gruffly, his gaze still heavy. A smile tugged at his lips as he moved to gently tuck a strand of hair behind John’s ear. “What I was going to say before you so sweetly distracted me, was that I actually reckon Crystal loves me. Secretly. That’s just his sense of humour. I’d be more concerned if he was nice. Then I’d know I’m in big shit. You could come out with us next week, meet him yourself. Crystal won’t mind. He already knows all about you. He reckons I’m like a lovesick puppy some days. Told him he’s only jealous because he’s probably not gotten laid since the tour.”

John laughed in response. “Bet he loved that. Yeah, alright. That would be nice actually.”

“Perfect,” Roger smiled.

He left to go and meet his Mum from the station a while later. That left John to sort dinner, fret over the prospect of being introduced to Roger’s Mum for the first time, have a quick shower and change into something nice, and fret some more.

John almost startled at the front door opening and closing. He could hear them chatting quietly, their voices drifting nearer to the kitchen.

He turned off the hob with the boiling potatoes and flattened his hair nervously. He swallowed thickly as Roger walked through the doorway, followed by a blonde woman.

John wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. She was a petite lady, and a little smaller than Roger. She had short hair, styled into a pixie cut, which framed her heart-shaped face.

“And this is our kitchen. And John, obviously,” Roger said, finishing the quick tour he’d just given his Mum.

The lady turned her head to smile at John. He noticed how they both had the same contagious smile and bright blue eyes, as she extended her hand.

“Hello John, nice to meet you at long last. How are you?”

He discreetly tried to wipe his clammy hands on the front of his trousers before he accepted her handshake. Then he gave a nervous smile in return.

“Yeah…good thank you. I hope the journey didn’t take too long,” he said politely. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

“It was pleasant enough. I mostly just read. Clare brought me a book for Christmas, the _Elton John_ biography. Have you read it? Well, it’s very good. I definitely recommend it,” she added when he shook his head.

“I should imagine it’s quite interesting.”

Roger snorted as he retrieved a glass from the cupboard and ran the tap. “That’s all she kept going on about at Christmas. Reckoned it was the best book she’s read so far.”

“I stand by that opinion, actually,” His Mum said with a wide smile. “I’ll let you borrow it, if you like.”

“Yeah, please.”

“Perfect,” she said as she took a quick look around their kitchen. “Something smells nice.”

“Thank you. I’ve done us a roast for dinner, and Roger mentioned that you’re fond of Treacle sponge, so I made that for pudding.”

“You’re in for a treat, Mum,” Roger said with a grin as he set aside his glass of water. “John’s a far better cook than me. Luckily. I nearly burned the flat down the other week, trying to make cheese on toast. We agreed it was probably safer to let John cook anything like that from now on.”

“A lesson we both learned,” John joked as he went back to scooping the potatoes into the tray of goose fat.

His Mum looked between them as Roger waited until John had set the tray into the oven before he leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. John let his hair curtain around his face, hiding his blush as Roger stayed at his side.

“That all sounds lovely, John. I hope you didn’t go to any trouble, not just for me.”

John smiled again in response. He decided he liked Winifred Taylor already. “It was no trouble. I had the day off, and I quite like cooking, to be honest.”

“Yeah, he does,” Roger chipped in fondly. “He reckons it relaxes him. God knows how. I couldn’t think of anything more stressful then cooking a full-on Sunday roast.”

“No offence darling, but I’d be stressed too if you were the one cooking it,” his Mum teased.

John laughed a little in response. “Yeah, and me.”

“I’ll say it again,” Roger said with another pout. “My talents are unappreciated in this house.”

His Mum excused herself to go and freshen up before they ate. That left Roger to set the table whilst John dished up. She came back and offered to pour them each a glass of wine with dinner.

They sat at the table and shared idle chit-chat. They spoke about Christmas and seeing family. They talked about Roger’s band, and how well recording their first album was going. It was nice. John mostly sat back and observed how obviously proud she was of her son. Even if she might not have said it in so many words.

Roger offered to go and find them a movie to watch, leaving John and Winifred to finish clearing up.

“It’s a nice place you’ve got. You can barely hear the traffic outside.”

John smiled as he reached for the baking tray, which was the next thing to wash-up. “Me and Fred got lucky finding this place.”

He could hear the television from the living room, as Roger continued to flick through the trailers. It was loud enough that he’d probably be oblivious to their conversation.

Perhaps that was why Winifred chose that moment to say something.

She put the plate she was drying in the cupboard and then reached out to press a hand to John’s arm. He paused his scrubbing of the baking tray and looked up at her in surprise.

“I just wanted to say thank you. I get the impression that you’ve been there for Roger a lot lately. I imagine it can’t have been at easy at first, seeing him after all that time. Given your history. But you gave him a chance, and I’ve never seen him so happy. He’s not had the easiest time of it, as you now know, and I…” she trailed off, as if searching for the right words. “Well, I’m glad he’s got you. You clearly care about him a great deal.”

John nodded immediately as he tried to reply quietly. “I do, yeah.”

“Good, that’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.”

John might have only just met her, but he could see Roger meant a lot to her. It was also a reassurance to hear her say how happy Roger seemed. Given everything he’d already been through. John had hated feeling helpless when it came to his father dying, so it was good to hear that he must have been doing something right.

“Thanks Mrs Taylor.”

“Please. Call me Winnie.”

He smiled in response. “Thanks, Winnie.”

They watched a movie and went to bed. They’d all decided to visit the Tower of London tomorrow on the basis Winifred had never been before.

Roger pulled back the covers and slid in besides John, seeking his warmth. John pulled him closer with a smile.

“That seemed to go well. Reckon my Mum’s rather fond of you already, you know? I could tell by the way she had that second portion of treacle pudding.”

John chuckled warmly in response as he softly played with the strands of Roger’s hair. “That’s good. I like your Mum, she seems nice. I’m glad we could finally meet.”

“Me too,” Roger said with a tired sigh. “Like you said, makes things easier, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly does, Rog,” John said softly, resting his head atop of Roger’s. “I love you, by the way. Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Roger cooed jokingly in response, causing John to playfully tap him. Then smile when Roger laughed, the sound beautifully melodic. “Don’t be an arse.”

“ _Sorry_ ,” Roger said around more laughter. “Well love you too, obviously. It means a lot to see the two of you getting along. And you already know how grateful I am to have you in my life. All joking aside, I don’t know what I’d do without you. At the very least, if it weren’t for you and Brian, I probably would have gotten food poisoning by now.”

John grinned in response. “Probably. Or scurvy.”

“Exactly.”

John responded by pressing himself closer still. It still amazed him to think how differently things had been a year before. Freddie and Brian hadn’t gotten engaged yet. And Roger and John had been oblivious to the fact that they were both living in London.

But now it was a new year, and John was genuinely looking forward to seeing what else it would bring for the two of them.

o-o-o

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh! These two are so cute! Writing them literally gives me life. I hope you enjoyed that as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'll be back to uploading the next chapter of LYHRYH on Monday. In the meantime, let me know what you thought of this sequel and whether you'd like to see more in the future! And also check out my tumblr handle, iambohemiangryffindor06 for more Dealor content.
> 
> Take care!


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